Incendiary heat blasted Conall. That excuse for a bra was pure sin. Strapless, made of see-through lace and barely covering her nipples, it took him past careful, beyond needy and into must-have-her-or-die.
He froze, not trusting himself.
Greer looked at his bobbing erection and pouted. Pouted! ‘You haven’t changed your mind?’
A rough growl filled the air. He realised the noise came from his constricted throat. Words were beyond him.
Taking his weight on his arms he moved off the sofa, provoking a protest from her.
He pulled her up to a sitting position and swept her legs off the seat and onto his shoulders as he knelt. One tug, the sound of tearing, and her underwear was gone.
Conall didn’t pause to acclimatise her to his touch. He went straight to her core, tracing folds, finding her nerve centre and caressing her there, feeling that delicious quiver of response as her muscles tightened and her pelvis lifted against him, so beautifully needy.
Her arousal scented the air. She tasted like every dream come true and when she shouted his name, her fingers tight around his skull as she shuddered and quaked then dissolved, Conall felt like he’d burned off some of the doubt he’d carried that he could win her back.
It was a start.
‘More,’ she breathed.
‘Yes.’
He was already moving, sliding her thighs off his shoulders as he straightened. She looked gloriously wanton in the remnants of her red dress, yet—did he imagine her eyes held something other than lust?
Any hope he’d had of finding restraint faded. He’d wanted to taste her breasts and tease them free of that barely there bra. Later. His groin was so tight he felt like he was about to combust.
Sliding his hands beneath her, he tilted her up towards him. Greer reached down, guiding him and he thrust home. She took him as deep as he could go. Until there was nothing but her, this woman who eclipsed everything else.
Conall was drowning in a sea of lapis lazuli, waves lapping around him, warm and silky smooth.
For a moment he held there, awed, until stillness was impossible. They moved together, Greer’s brow knotted in concentration even as her eyes glazed. Another thrust and the gentle waves became a maelstrom of pleasure, pulling him deeper, harder, drawing the very essence of him.
Greer shouted his name, fingers digging into his shoulders and still she held his gaze so he saw everything she felt,felteverything she felt as they exploded, shattering into oblivion.
Except it wasn’t oblivion, because she was there.
The woman he loved.
Conall tasted the confession on his tongue, opened his mouth to share it, but through the blur of ecstasy, reason returned. He couldn’t blurt the truth suddenly. He didn’t want to scare her off. Every time he’d thought they were on solid ground, he’d almost lost her.
He needed to understand why she’d run from him before. Why she tiptoed around the idea of marriage. Then he’d overcome her fears and change himself to be the man she wanted, a man she trusted. Not a man she hid from.
He’d win her and keep her. Whatever it took.
Chapter Thirteen
GREER STRETCHED LANGUIDLY, feeling the heavy silk of her robe slide across bare skin. She shot a glance towards Conall, munching on chilli ginger prawns. Instantly, as if sensing her regard, he turned his head, gaze meshing with hers so that slow-coiling heat stirred anew in her stomach.
He was bare-chested and she watched the play of his muscles as he ate. Just the sight of him beside her at the small table was sensual, arousing.
They sat in a pool of light. Beyond them, the open doors to the terrace let in the balmy, humid night air and a view of city lights. It was well past midnight but neither had eaten at the party and they’d woken hungry.
She could get used to a private chef preparing five star gourmet feasts on call.
But it wasn’t the food or the luxury service on her mind. It was Conall. Tonight he’d revealed a history that made her ache for the grieving child he’d been, taken from a loving home into a place where no child belonged. She sensed he’d held back a lot more than he’d revealed in order to spare her.
His story had made her upset and protective. She’d dearly love to tell Fraser Abercrombie and the world some home truths about his unfitness to be around children. He didn’t deserve a family.
‘You look very fierce, sweetheart. What’s wrong? If it’s Jason, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you never have to deal with him again.’
